To Be A Hero
by IronRaven
Summary: When dealing with a family emergency, Cyborg wonders if everything he's gone through is worth it. Fortunately, he isn't the only one from his home town with these kinds of thoughts. TTJL crossover. Sorry about the wait, bit of writers block on the storyli
1. Default Chapter

To Be A Hero   
by IronRaven 

Disclaimer: Teen Titans, Batman, The Justice League, and related entities, characters and concepts are the property of DC Comics. 

I know I am taking some liberties with Cyborg's past, but it has been repeatedly stated by Bruce Timm and the members of the team that these Titans aren't quiet the ones from the comics of the past, which are (mostly) Earth-Prime. In fact, I've found nothing canon about the origins of Cyborg in the Earth-Timm/2 continuum. (With Earth-Timm/1 being the Batman:TAS and Batman/Superman adventures, and Justice League possibly being Earth-Timm/1a. And if you understood the notation, you need as much help as I do. :P ) 

--- 

A part of Robin's mind stirred as he slept. _Door, Cyborg's._ Four firm metal on metal knocks, tapped out in an erratic rhythm stirred all of the Boy Wonder's brain into wakefulness, his hand going automatically to where his mask lay on the night table. 

"Robin? It's Cyborg." The mechanically enhanced young man's voice sounded tight, constricted, and much quieter than normal as Robin opened the door. Cyborg's human cheek had the trail of a tear running down it. "Robin, I need to go home. My aunt just called me: Gram's in the hospital, she had a heart attack." 

"Go pack, I'll start making calls, see what the earliest flight you can get onto is." 

--- 

Twenty minutes later, Cyborg hefted the bulk of his portable charger on his shoulder, and picked up the small bag of the few other personal things he needed in his left hand. "I'm sorry, guys, I feel like I'm running out on you." 

"Dude, don't worry about it." In one of the few serious points in his life, Beast Boy clapped his hand on Cyborg's shoulder. "We can take care of the city, you need to go." 

The other's added their support as Robin stepped from the computer room. "A Wayne Industries courier flight to Central City leaves in 30 minutes. It's private, you won't have go through the terminal, you'll be home by dawn. It's the red and green hanger, near the western access road." Shaking hands with his friend, Robin looked up, concern showing through his mask. "Call us, if you need anything." 

"I will." Cyborg stepped out of the front door, onto the boulder Terra had summoned from the Bay. In two blinks of an eye, the two teens were across the water and over land, heading for the airport. 

--- 

Author's notes:   
Not related to the story, but is it just me, or did it look like Raven was almost smiling when Terra did the fly by with the rocks in _Titan Rising_? Hard to tell, her hair was over her lower face, but it sure looks it. 

As for the flight Cyborg is on, I'm willing to bet Robin has a pretty good trust fund and more than a few connections in the Wayne conglomerate of companies. 


	2. Chapter 1

To Be A Hero: Homecoming   
by IronRaven 

Disclaimer: Teen Titans, Batman, The Justice League, and related entities, characters and concepts are the property of DC Comics. Turtle Wax is a trade mark of whomever owns it. 

I know I am taking some liberties with Victor Stone's (aka Cyborg) past, but it has been repeatedly stated by Bruce Timm and his members of the team that these Titans aren't quiet the ones from the comics of the past 

--- 

It had been a very long couple hours for Cyborg, all of it a blur. The call startling him from a diagnostic and self-repair cycle, then the sudden and unexpected flight. Fear had added to his disoriention, otherwise he might have wondered how he was able to hitch a ride so quickly with a corporate courier in the middle of the night. Cyborg spent the flight sitting on the cold metal plank of the cargo-configured Gulfstream, having been too large to fit in the jump seats along the sides of the empty hold. Staring at the decking, he held his lower legs to his chest, his mind numb, physcially held in place by a cargo strap around his chest as the jet bucked over a thunderstorm in the Rockies. 

It wasn't until the landing gear were lowered he remembered he hadn't called his aunt back. Aunt Vi had told him which hospital, but he knew he was going to have to walk. At five in the morning, Central City's airport just didn't have enough going on to have many taxi's just milling about. Certainly none who could handle his extra weight. But as he exited the oversized side hatch and effortless jumped the dozen feet to the ground, he suddenly realized his friends had not simply gone back to sleep. Instead, they had been one step ahead of him. 

A representative of STAR Labs, once his second home, had been there with a van to take him to Central General. Dr. Vasquez, the man who had made Cyborg everything he was now, had apparently been called with the news. After the accident that cost Cyborg his parents, it had been the technology that Dr. Vasquez and his father had developed that kept him alive. The squid-thing his mother's quantum physics experiment had let out of it's dimension was taken down by the prototype of the sonic cannon he carried in his own arm now, and served as a constant reminder of what had happened. The ride was short and silent, but just before the hospital, Dr. Vasquez handed Cyborg a long, large trench coat and a broad brimmed hat. "Here, you might want these. 

The trouble really started when Cyborg entered the hospital. As he stepped through the door, alarms sounded and Security personnel stepped from the cubbies they stood watch in, some with their hands resting on the tasers they carried on their hips, others with the solid slug pistols they had. "Hold it, Sir." 

Sighing, Cyborg stopped in his tracks. "What is it? What did I do?" 

The lead guard stepped closer, but not so close as to be in easy arms reach. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to remove the weapon and produce some identification authorizing you to carry said weapon." Looking up, the officer gulped and wondered if maybe his mother had been right, and a nice, quiet job as a garbage man might be a good idea. "Please." 

Glaring at the guard, dismissing the urge to simply squash him, Cyborg reached up and unlatched his arm, tossing it to the started officer with a shout. "Here, ya' happy?!" Taking a step past the man, the teen muttered to himself. "I'm a world class super hero. They've made trading cards of me! And some jumped up rentacop won't even let me see my grandmother without asking an arm for it!" 

Stomping to the elevator's, Cyborg examined the directory, searching for the cardiac unit before angrily poking the button that summoned the elevator. The elevator opened without complaint, but balked when he pushed the button for the proper floor. A smoothly textured voice wafted down from the speaker in the ceiling. "I'm sorry, but this elevator is designed for a one thousand, six hundred pound nominal operating load. I must ask that for the safety of all occupants that this limit be observed. Someone must step out, please." 

With a snarl, Cyborg stepped from the overly talkative method of transportation, ignoring it's thanks and suggestion to have a nice day, along with the security guard who came up behind him and started to follow. Finding the stairs was easy enough, and they took him to the 3rd floor without any complaint. Roughly opening the door, Cyborg looked around the waiting area, finding his family. 

"Vic! We didn't expect you yet!" Rushing to his side, Violet Stone, Cyborg's Aunt Vi, hugged him. "Gram's in surgery now, but they say she should be ok." 

Uncle Walter came up a more sedate pace, having been consulting with a person in medical garb when Cyborg opened the door. Reaching out to shake hands with his brother's son, he paused "It is good to see you, Victor. Were is the rest of you?" 

Snorting, Victor Stone looked over his shoulder at the guard who had apparently been assigned to follow him. "Security decided that I shouldn't have two hands." Shaking his head bitterly, he speared the poor guard with his meat eye, before turning back to his aunt and uncle. "I saw you talking to the doc, is Gram going to be alright, Uncle Walt?" 

"She should be. They are closing now apparently. They had to put a pacemaker in, they said everything went routine." 

Hearing the words, Victor unconsciously ran a status check on the carbon fiber and ceramic turbine pump that kept the blood flowing to his remaining biological components. As always, it said he was running just fine, and gave him a readout of every related system's behavior over the past hour. Looking down at his metal hand, he grimaced. "So I won't be the only one in the family anymore." 

Guiding him to a couch, Aunt Vi pushed him gently into it. Ignoring the creak and sag of the cheap furniture, she settled next to him, holding his hand. "You know, she's probably going to get something you helped prototype. Have a little faith." 

"Yeah." lowering his head, holding his face in his hand, Victor closed his eye and ignored the datafeed from his electro-optical sensor, only to hear the patter of small feet. His computer-enhanced memory isolated the stride, compared it to what he remembered and extrapolated for the passage of two years. It was his cousin, Maggy. 

"Victor?" Standing only a few feet away, Maggy frowned in confusion. At eight, she barely remembered her cousin, but she seemed to recall he had two arms before he moved away. "Don't cry, Victor, Gram is going to get better." 

Keeping his face down, still holding it in his hand, Vic tried to ignore his own fears. "I know, Mags, I was just really worried. I still am." Shaking his head gently, he opened his eye on the cheap carpet beneath his feet. "Aren't you scared?" 

"Why should I be? The doctors will make Gram all better, and she'll go home, and everything will right again." Nervously nibbling on her thumbnail, young Maggy studied her cousin, before speaking with the assurance of divine right that only a young child has. "You know, you shouldn't wear a hat inside, it's rude." 

Victor looked up as she pulled off his hat, the ranging laser built into his cybernetic eye strobbing normally, a soft, gentle ruby glow. Maggy looked at him, her eyes filled with horror as they looked into his organic eye, her hands flinching away in fear. Holding them to her lips, she dropped the hat and started to back away. "Don't be afraid, Mags, it's only me." Reaching out his hand, the articulated metal digits opening to her, Victor was filled with an emotion he couldn't name, and didn't want to. What he really wanted to do was hide. 

But Margaret Stone couldn't hear him as she started to shriek in fear. "You aren't Vic! Who are you! You are a monster! Give Victor back!" 

Aunt Vi scooped the screaming child up, comforting her, turning her so she couldn't see Victor, whom she shot a pitying look to. Vic stood, looking for the nearest place to hide into. Spotting an alcove near the snack machines, he hid around the corner. 

He was leaning against the wall, his face resting on his forearm, when his uncle tapped on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Vic, I didn't think Maggy was going to be afraid of you." 

"It's ok, Uncle Walt, you get used to it." Raising his head, he looked at his father's brother. "Eventually." 

"Violet took Maggy home. We thought it would be for the best." Hefting the metal appendage, Walt continued. "I went and talked to security. I convinced them you could be trusted with your own arm, since you were going to be with me." 

"Thanks, Unc." Snapping it back in place, Victor shook it, letting the servos, gears and flat motors free float for a moment so the range of motion sensors could reinitialize. "Or should I say, Detective Stone." 

Clapping his hand on his nephew's shoulder, Walter steered him towards the nearby machines. "Coffee? I'm buying." 

--- 

The men of the Stone family spent the next few hours talking shop, officer of the law and super hero. For a while, Victor tried to forget why he was here, but every so often, his eye or his uncle's would flick to the door that his Gram was behind, recovering from surgery. As the afternoon started to wind into early evening, a nurse walked over to them. 

"Uh..." Flicking a nervous eye over Victor, she swallowed. "Are you gentlemen Mrs. Stone's family?" 

Both men stood, Uncle Walter speaking. "Yes, we are. Is everything alright?" 

"Yes, she's just waking up. You can have a few minutes, but she will tire easily. If you can follow me." 

Following the nurse, who held the door open, Walter and Victor stepped into a chamber surrounded by medical technology. Victor felt instantly at home, being reminded of his room back in the Titan Tower, even most of readouts and monitors there had more to do with his mechanical side. Gram Stone lay in her bed, looking weak, frail, almost brittle, her skin still slightly ashen/ But any weakness of flesh was at the mercy of the strength of her mind, which showed with brilliant, rich brown eyes. 

"Hello, boys, I'm sorry if I scared you." 

Hi, Mom, how are you feeling?" Kneeling beside the bed, Walter took her hand, trembling for the first time since he had been called. 

Victor glanced at the status readout from the newly implanted pacemaker. "Hey, Gram, you need anything?" 

"Walter, I had a heart attack, how do you think I'm feeling?" Chuckling, the older woman coughed softly, cringing as it pulled at her stitches. "Ohh, it was everything you hear about. I big white light. Kind of like headlights on a dark street, bearing down on you." 

_Same old Gram._ Brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, Victor leaned down and kissed his grandmother's forehead. "I'm just glad you jumped out of the way." 

"We are even more alike now, Vic." Looking at her son, Gram patted his cheek. "How is Maggy taking it? She is so young...." 

"She's a little scared, Mom, but she didn't get to panicky until she saw Vic. You were right, I should have explained to her before this what had happened." 

Grandmother and grandson's eyes met, trading an 'I told ya' look, before she yawned. "Hmm... I'm sorry, boys, I'm just really tired.. Her eyes starting to close, Gram Stone lay back in bed. "Walt, tell everyone I'm ok. Vic, I want you to go check out the old neighborhood, tell everyone how I am, ok?" 

"Sure, Gram." Patting her hand, Victor thought it over. "That sounds like a good idea." 

"Mom, I'll make the calls. Me or Vi will be back in a few hours." 

"Hmmkay..." Slipping into sleep, Gram Stone's face was calm, with a small, confident smile on it. Victor knew he often had the same one on his lips. He and her were so much alike in so many ways. 

Silently, Victor and his uncle left the room, headed for the stairs. As they headed through the lobby, one of the security guards approached them. "Mr. Stone? Show who ever is on duty this when you come back in." It was the same guard who had started the day following Victor to make sure he did nothing rash, holding out a pass card. "That way, we won't ask for your arm." Looking a little sheepish, the security officer looked them over. "Looks like good news." 

"Yeah, it is." Taking the card, Walter tucked it into his nephews pocket. "Thanks." 

As they left the building, the Stones both looked up at the sky. Just a few clouds were coming in from the east as they headed for the parking garage down the block. As they reached it, Uncle Walter paused, unsure of what to say. "Vic, I feel bad saying this, but maybe it would be better if you.... I mean, with Maggy...." 

"Yeah, Unc, I was thinking that myself. Dr. Vasquez said I could camp at the Lab if I needed. They want to check my diagnostic logs, anyway, since I'm in town. It's the least I can do." Glancing at his metal hands, Victor felt a tightness in his chest. "They are probably footing a lot of the bill for this anyway." 

"Most of it, yeah." Resting his hand on his nephew's shoulder, Walter gave it a squeeze. "If you need anything, even just a ride, call us. You know the number." 

"I will, Uncle Walt. I'm going to do as Gram asked, look around the old neighborhood for a few hours." Turning away, looking about to orient himself, Victor decided to stuff his hat into his pocket. He ignore the few gasps and many stares as he slowly set off towards his old neighborhood. 

After about an hour of wandering, he found himself standing someplace he hadn't been in since before his change, his old high school. His fingers gently gripped the webbing of the fence around the basketball court, watching the players. They were younger, 12, 13, and they couldn't play very well, but they were playing. Just kids playing ball next to the high school they would go to in a few years. The lengthening shadows and their concentration kept them from really seeing him. After several points, someone stepped beside him. 

"Hello, Victor. Glad to see you coming home." Al McGee rested his hand on the shoulder of his former student, watching his grandson playing. "How is your grandmother?" 

Turning, Victor looked to his old teacher. "She's going to be alright, Mr. McGee. How did..." 

"How did I know? Because this is a small neighborhood. If you want to listen, there isn't much you won't learn. You should know that." 

"Sorry, Mr. McGee, I do. I'm just been a little preoccupied." 

"Understandable." Looking back to the game, Mr. McGee's voice was soft. "So how have you been?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Really? Remember, Vic, I've been working with young people since before you were born- I can tell when something isn't right. And I know you, you played ball for me. What is it?" 

Taking a deep breath, Vic slumped, thinking about his life as Cyborg. As he told his tale, he thought back over his adventures with the Titans. Of being restricted by what his parts could safely take, and then rebuilding parts of himself because he'd redlined his body. Having Gizmo hack his body, effectively possessing him. Being treated as an object of curiosity, mistrust and fear. But he spoke of the insults of the past day. "And then the security dweebs at the hospital wouldn't let me take my arm with me. I've never done anything except be a hero, and they won't trust me with my own parts." 

"Vic, you know the world has gotten a little bit more paranoid." Shaking his head, thinking of lockdowns and random searches in schools, Mr. McGee looked up at his former pupil. "Sounds like you are afraid being nothing but a machine, Victor." 

"Maybe, maybe. It doesn't change my cousin thinks I'm a monster." 

"She's young; All she knows is that you aren't like she is." For several long seconds, Al McGee stared across the court, not seeing those who played on it now, but those who played on it in the past. "Victor, did you know that you shared something very special with another superhero?" 

Brow furrowing, Vic looked over, curious. 

"A gym locker." With a mischievous grin, Al McGee opened his mouth to explain, but his words were cut off. 

"Victor? Yo, Vic! What's up, man?" A young couple was approaching, a tall, slender, goateed black young man of about 18 or so, and a slightly shorter, very pretty young lady with her arm though his. As they got closer, she fell back a little, untangling herself from his arm. "You finally remembered your old buddies back in the 'hood?" 

"Marcus, Jasmine, how's it going?" _Jaz....._ The past floating before his eye, Vic's lips twisted into a huge grin as he caught his friend's hand. As much as he wanted to look, he stopped himself from making eye contact with the young lady. "You look good, man, what's up?" 

"Not much. Just a basketball scholarship to Gotham Polytech." Puffing up a little, without even thinking, Marcus beamed. "Getting out here. I'm just glad you didn't stick around, you always were a better player than I am, bro." 

"Congratulations." Fighting the urge to take a deep breath, Victor smiled at Jasmine. "Hey, Jaz, how has this loser been treating you?" 

"I am well, Cyborg, thank you." Her eyes slitted, her voice cold, Jaz eyed him. "I see they programmed you to be polite." 

Victor flinched as if hit, while Marcus turned about. "Jaz, honey, please-" 

"No, Marcus, I'm not going to nice. Victor Stone is dead, those people did this to his body. This machine isn't Victor Stone. If you want to make small talk with a robot, catch up with me." Long, black curls swaying angrily, Jasmine walked past, this time not even seeing Victor. 

"Dude, I'm sorry." Cringing, afraid of what his old friend was about to say, Marcus seemed to have shrunk in the few seconds that had just pasted. "What happened to you has been hard for her. I, uh, I didn't mean to take her from you." 

"I know you didn't." Feeling the weight of a past that could never be again, Cyborg's shoulders slumped. Jaz's voice echoed back from the past _'How dare you call yourself Victor Stone. You are a machine, a cybernetic organism, a cyborg. Get used to it, and leave me alone.'_ Taking a step into the growing darkness, the metallic hero knew he spoke for the last time to his old friend and teammate. "Take care of her, Marcus." 

Marcus stared at his childhood companion's back for a long time, before he could speak. "Where do you think he's going, Mr. McGee?" 

"I don't know, son, I don't know. I doubt even he knows right now." 

--- 

Blindly wandering, Cyborg stared at the sidewalk, thinking about what he had been. He had been a great athlete, and a genius. How many times had it been shown to him he was nothing more than a collection of parts now. Just a machine. 

With a screech of breaks and a blaring horn, a car stopped just short of Cyborg as he walked into the street, totally unaware. "Hey, watch it, stupid! Are you trying to commit suicide?" 

Cyborg glared at the driver of the car, a snarl on his lips as his ranging laser settled on the man's chest. With a yelp, the driver dropped into reverse to get some clearance, then sped away. It was only then when Cyborg realized were he was. He was less than a block from the park he used to go to. Picking up speed, he hurried there, hoping to find at least one thing from his human childhood that wouldn't bite him. As he rounded the corner, he remembered all the joy that four acres had brought him. 

_Little League. Snowmen and snowball fights. The teeter-totter. The first time Jaz kissed me._

"No." Where the park once stood, a self storage facility and a minimart now stood. "NO!!" Slumping to his knees next to a utilty pole, Cyborg felt as if everything was slipping through his fingers. Despair and self pity reached up to grab him, pulling him under, trying to drown him, but he reached out, taking anger in hand, letting it pull him back up to the surface. His mind felt as if had been bathed in fire as he punched the phone pole, making every light for a couple of blocks flicker. 

From the door of the mini-mart, a voice challenged him. "YO! Tinman!" 

--- 

Author's notes:   
Cyborg's life must be hell. He would be so heavy, the only way he can sit in a normal chair is lock his knees and balance there. Still, he would be able to literally lock them, and he must have some form of gyro-stabilization or something similar, even if 'all it is' a feedback from his remaining inner ear. Normal cars would have a hard time with him. Normal plane seats wouldn't be able to hold him, if he could convince security he should be allowed to ride. And to most people, he isn't a human, but a robot. At best, like RoboCop (tm), at worst, a Terminator (tm). Most people will be scared of you, and those who aren't are mostly idiot fan boys who don't understand you are still human rather than a really nifty piece of technology, or psychos who would love to mount a part of you over their mantels as a hunting trophy. Seeing your new self in your old home will have all kinds of emotional ups and downs. Seeing how things have changed, while others haven't. And sometimes, it isn't people or places that change, just how they see what you are now. 

To be a piece that doesn't fit in the machine you were made for. Welcome home, Victor Stone. 


End file.
